


This Isn't the End

by StaticPhantom



Series: Paradise Motel Week (Killjoynest) [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Comfort, He/Him Kobra Kid, Injury, Jet Star crochets shawls for desperate times, She/Her Jet Star, mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26484427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaticPhantom/pseuds/StaticPhantom
Summary: Prompt Day 1: Fab Four EraKobra may not have been hurt physically, but the regrets and flashbacks brought about by the 'Crows in Zone 3 left him with the need for one of Jet Star's famous shawls.
Relationships: Jet Star & Kobra Kid (Danger Days), They're friends but nothing more
Series: Paradise Motel Week (Killjoynest) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925404
Comments: 11
Kudos: 18





	This Isn't the End

If there was one thing Jet Star could see better than the others despite her missing eye, it was how to help someone when they needed it.

She didn’t hear Kobra’s bike sputter to a halt outside, neither did she hear the Diner doors swing open and a pair of boots stumble their way through the entrance. Kobra’s shallow breathing couldn’t reach her ears as she lay in her room, eye closed, Dr. D’s broadcast crackling through the air. 

“…Keep those trigger fingers twitchy, sounds like there’s a flock of ‘Crows and No-Shows out in Zone 3…”

The door opened slowly, creating a painful drawn-out creak. Jet switched off the radio and sat up to see Kobra, head down, hair in his eyes, one hand on the wooden doorframe. She jumped up and made her way over to the silent teenager outside her room. 

Greasy, sandy hair hung over his face. His shoulders were tense below his worn jacket but the horrors running through his mind made themselves known in his shaking hands. He had left for Zone 2 only an hour ago, laughing at something Ghoul had said. It would have been hard to recognize this silent, sullen Kobra as the same person if Jet hadn’t seen him like this before. She knew it would be a few days until he could face leaving the Diner again, maybe even until he would say a word to the rest of the crew.  
She lifted her hand cautiously towards his, stretching out her scarred fingers in an invitation. Kobra didn’t move for a second, then his trembling hand darted out from where it had been hanging at his side and he gripped Jet’s hand as though it were a lifeline. 

She squeezed his hand until the shaking had lessened, then led him wordlessly to the cracked leather couch which served as her bed. 

They sat beside each other, unspeaking, while Kobra hung his head and held Jet’s hand so tightly it seemed as though her fingers would snap under the pressure. She didn’t mind, it was what Kobra needed- someone to ground him when everything went wrong. Once his breathing had slowed from the verge of hyperventilation, Jet spoke quietly.

“Are you hurt?” 

Kobra slowly pulled his gloved hand away from Jet’s and pushed up the sleeve of his jacket to show a faint purple bruise in the shape of four fingers on his forearm. Rage bubbled up in Jet’s throat, leaving a sour taste in her mouth—the same rage which coursed through her veins in every firefight, every raid. The anger which had left her driving out to Zone 6 to scream at the Witch with every breath she had left when Ghoul had staggered into the diner, his chest slashed open, and bled out on the linoleum until Jet had returned from a run and found him minutes away from death, mumbling a word she couldn’t make out.

With her hand now free, Jet stood up from the couch. Kobra’s head turned sharply up to face her and she could see the red rimming his bloodshot eyes. Something twinged deep in her stomach, whether it was guilt or sympathy, she couldn’t tell.

“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get something.” She reassured Kobra with a faint smile. He nodded slowly and turned his gaze back to the bruise decorating his arm. 

Jet moved quickly to the cupboard which probably once held burger buns and seasonings, but now contained the few blankets which weren’t on beds and… There. She pulled a multicoloured bundle of crochet from the top shelf- it was surprisingly heavy in her arms for something made of what little scrap wool she could find at the Market. 

When she returned to her room, Kobra had let his elbows rest on his knees, hands supporting the weight of his head. His jacket was tight across his back- it had always been a little too small, but Kobra had insisted on keeping it. Jet let the pile of crocheted material unfold and held up the heavy shawl. Kobra lifted his head slightly and nodded once. Jet took this as permission to lay the shawl across Kobra’s shoulders and sat down beside him.

“Talk about it?” She asked softly. Kobra gave no response other than lacing his fingers in Jet’s and laying his head on her shoulder. He pulled the edge of the shawl closer around his body and fiddled with the yarn until his hands were no longer shaking. The memories and fears which collided in his head were dulled by Jet’s warm hand in his and the heavy shawl on his back. Jet closed her eye and let her head rest on Kobra’s.

“I’m here. It’s only me. Everything will be alright in the end.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was really just me messing around, I hope you liked this (barely edited) scene. The idea of the shawls was sparked by a conversation about Killjoys and their crafting abilities, and this is where it led me.


End file.
